What's Left
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: /No one ever saw her breaking, no one saw her slowly cracking in the corners and withering away to nothing, nothing, nothing…/ Carly-centric. For Lovely Amelie.


_What's Left_

_Summary: /No one ever saw her breaking, no one saw her slowly cracking in the corners and withering away to nothing, nothing, nothing…/ Carly-centric._

_English Angst/Friendship Rated: T Chapters:1 Words: Carly S._

_"Aren't you going to eat that?"_

_"Uhh…no, I'm not hungry."_

_"But I didn't see you eat-"_

_"Just take it, Sam!"_

_:::::_

_Maybe you felt sparks, but I felt fireworks._

:::::

Carly dances around her room listening to music when she accomplishes her goal (77 pounds, brittle hair, shaking like a Chihuahua.) Her bones tremble, her cobalt veins lace over one another through her transparent flesh, but when she sees her prominent hips, her ribs through her tank top, she doesn't care about anything but thin thin thin.

Somewhere along the way, Carly collapses, and her heart may skip a few beats, but she's skinny and if she's lucky, she'll lose even more (more, more, get rid of it all) running tomorrow, skipping lunch, dinner, maybe breakfast. She's on the way.

:::::

[x] 105.7

[x] 101.9

[x] 97.3

[x] 92.8

[x] 86.7

[x] 81.6

[x] 77.5

[x] 73.1

[] 68.9

[] 64.4

:::::

"I know you love Freddie, Sam."

"I'm sorry."

"Neither of us can apologize."

:::::

Bust: 28.7

Hips: 31

Waist: 19

Height: 66

:::::

Sweat. Her knuckles turn weight around the grips of the treadmill, while her feet are blistered and throbbing, and her heart wants to beat its way out of her ribcage; why does the one thing that keeps her alive try to kill her? But, Carly tries to picture the fat melting off of her, like wax off of a burning candle, and she runs, runs, runs, right out of her body.

She forgets that all burning candles eventually _disappear._

:::::

Ridgeway High School Medical Report Date: 4/22/10

Name: Shay, Carly

Symptoms: Nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath, seems to be malnourished.

:::::

Her kiss with Freddie burns like acid, but is sweeter then red velvet cupcakes.

It's in the hallway between their apartments-they're both drenched in bitter Seattle rain, and after two full minutes of breathless bliss, Carly pushes herself away, ramming her porcelain body into the wall (brittle, brittle, break.) Tears run down both of their faces, Freddie puts a hand over his eyes like their sparks are blindingly painful, there's the sound of rain, rain, rain against the roof. Carly thinks of Sam, innocent (not really, but in a metaphorical sense) Sam, who has no idea that they're kissing.

"Carly-"

"I know." She knows there are mascara saturated tears running down her pallid cheeks, because her world is fading to a washed shade of gray, ash, soot, silver, the bathroom scale. The lights above them burn, his eyes are sparkling with tears, she's suddenly on the carpet, dizzy, but still tasting the sour-sweet-bitter-salt of Freddie.

:::::

_"You're right, actually. I am pretty-I'm pretty troubled, I'm pretty confused, and I'm scared. Really, really, really scared. Really scared."_

:::::

"Did you have something to eat this morning, Carls?"

Spencer cares so much, but he's so naïve, he doesn't know, he's so oblivious-Carly nods, hoping that her hollow cheeks are too noticeable (they are) or maybe her concave ribs (he does.) She runs upstairs to squeeze in a few more minutes of treadmill time before her homework, or before Sam calls (Freddie doesn't exactly contact her anymore) to be pretty, perfect, amazing Carly Shay.

:::::

_No one tells you it's not like the movies._

:::::

"Sam, break this porcelain doll."

"Carly, I asked what was wrong with you, why am I-"

"Sam, just do it," Carly repeats in a voice so cold and formal, it belongs to a chiseled statue, not bony, pretty, pale little Carly Shay. Sam slowly picks up the milky doll with gorgeous, raven-dark hair, chocolaty eyes, a model-like figure, full, kissable lips. (Sam likes to break things, but Carly likes to break herself.) With a short twitch of the wrist, the porcelain doll is at their feet, in jagged porcelain pieces.

Sam runs a hand through her golden hair, then looks up at Carly, who is wrapped in an afghan, shivering because she's always cold, tears in her eyes (Samantha Puckett doesn't cry.) "Carly, are you trying to say that the doll-"

"We better clean up these pieces," Carly says in her tight, hard voice, scooping up what's left of the porcelain doll's tiny waist (oh, how I wish it was mine) rubbing her thumb over the smooth, pearly surface. "Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

:::::

_How about this muffin? _No, there's so many carbs, and grains, and look at all of nuts.

_What about this yogurt? _Are you kidding me? It's basically a plastic bottle of fat that I can drink.

_Water? _I'll be weaker-drinking makes me feel hollow, hungry, and I can't give in, just a few more pounds away.

:::::

"Freddie, kiss me again."

"Why?"

"Just…in case."

:::::

_I'm broken, but you'd never know._

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Obituary

Carly Shay, sixteen years old, died on May third, from heart failure.

**I know it's just a lot of snippets, but I actually liked the way it turned out. This one-shot is actually written in dedication to Lovely Amelie, who is the master of writing for Carly, and I hope you drop by to read this, because I'm a huge fan. =) Leave a review, please?**


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